Lane couldn’t see out the window. They’d piled tables in front of them. And in front of the door. As long as the zombies tried to come through from Commercial, they would be fine. Their defences would hold.
The back was trickier. Like Teensy said, they couldn’t block up all their escape routes. But the zombies had come through the side alley, so it made sense they would again.
Even though Lane had initially been in favour of waiting it out for the authorities to arrive, she was beginning to feel like a sitting duck. Her gut was telling her they should leave, but she wasn’t used to trusting herself. Mostly, she’d relied on other people’s advice, but that hadn’t been life or death situations. So far in this waking nightmare, she’d done okay. Maybe she could back herself to make decisions and trust her instincts. And all her instincts were telling her they should get out of here.
Lane turned her attention to Meg, who was alone at the bar, the plates from their sandwiches piled beside her. Her head rested in one hand, and she kept nodding off then jerking awake again.
“Why don’t you lie down for an hour?” Lane said.
Meg raised her head and blinked slowly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It doesn’t feel safe to fall asleep.”
“I’ll watch over you.” The words were out of Lane’s mouth before she could stop them. She winced. How pathetic did that sound?
To her relief, Meg smiled. “I know you would, but all the same, I’d rather stay awake.”
Lane nodded. Once Meg made up her mind, there was no changing it. She turned her attention to Wendy instead.
Wendy sat at one of the few tables they hadn’t used in their barricade. Her new bag—annoyingly, the same bag Lane had chosen—was clutched tightly to her chest. Lane didn’t want to dwell on the fact she and Wendy had similar taste. Although, in her defence, Lands End Marine Supply wasn’t exactly high fashion, so maybe she could give herself a break.
Lane was interested in what Wendy had in her bag, though. And she still needed to follow up on her sneaking suspicion that Wendy knew more about what was happening than she was letting on. She simply could not get past the way Wendy’d reacted to the grey man at the library.
Lane got up and went to sit with Wendy. She slid onto the bench next to her. “Hey, Wendy.”
“Hi.” Wendy stared straight ahead.
“How are you doing?” Lane asked. She reached out to touch Wendy’s hand where it rested on the bag. Wendy squeezed Lane’s hand briefly, then went back to clutching the bag. “Wendy?”
“About the same as you, I imagine. This whole situation is”—Wendy threw up her hands—“indescribable. I think, maybe I did something…oh, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”
Lane studied Wendy. She was certainly struggling with something, and Lane had an idea she knew what. She’d been guarding that bag with her life, and Lane had an idea maybe Wendy had the Viking treasure in it.
“We’ll get out of here, right? We’ll be okay?” Wendy asked.
“I don’t know,” Lane said. “Wendy?”
“Yes?”
“Tell me what’s going on in Provincetown.”
Wendy flinched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The man shooting blue flames out of his mouth. Who is he?” Lane asked.
“How the hell would Wendy know?” Teensy bellowed from her position on the floor. She was playing marbles or something similar with Lois.
“I think Wendy might know a lot more than she’s letting on,” Lane said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Wendy said. “Why would I know any more than you?”
“Back at the library. You weren’t at all surprised to see him, if I remember,” Lane said.
“Don’t be stupid. How would I know what—who—he is?”
“You’ve curated the Viking exhibition, haven’t you? You’re a historian.”
“Yes, Vikings. Not zombies,” Wendy said.
“I’m warning you, Lane. Leave her alone. She says she doesn’t know anything, she doesn’t know anything. Besides, why would she? Bunch of fucking zombies running around. Why would Wendy have a clue about that?” Teensy shook her head and picked up five marbles in her large hand.
“And what’s in the bag that you’re so keen to protect?” Lane carried on, hoping Teensy wouldn’t decide to beat the shit out of her. Lane wasn’t small, but Teensy could snap her in half.
“None of your business.” Wendy’s voice was high-pitched.
“I told you—” Marbles scattered as Teensy stood up, all red-faced and clenched fists.
“Both of you, stop,” Meg said, manoeuvring herself between Teensy and Lane. “I agree with Lane that Wendy knows more than she’s letting on.”
“She already said she doesn’t,” Teensy said and turned to Meg. “You should have more respect.” But the anger had gone out of her, and Lane thought she probably wouldn’t be pounded just yet. “Don’t you think if Wendy knew something, she’d tell us? You think she’d just let us run around like headless chickens? Of course she wouldn’t. She’d tell us what she knew. People are dying here.”
“Okay, fine. Tell me about the Viking landings,” Lane said to Wendy.
“What? Why?” Wendy asked.
“Well, this whole thing started when that treasure was found. And the chief zombie looks a little like a Viking, don’t you think?” Tenuous, but Lane had a feeling.
“Why can’t you just leave her alone? She’s suffered enough. We all have,” Teensy said.
“Why are you so quick to defend her? All I’m doing is asking her about the Viking landings,” Lane snapped.
“What you’re doing is harassing her. If Wendy knew something, she’d tell us.” Teensy sat back down and spoke into the floor. “When my mom got the cancer, Wendy was the only one who kept on visiting her. Only one who came every week, right up until the end. All my mom’s other so-called friends disappeared. Wendy’s got integrity. If she knew something she thought could help us, she’d tell us. Isn’t that right, Wendy?”
Wendy sighed. “I’ll tell you what I know, but I don’t see how it’ll help us. What’s happening here, this isn’t normal. I don’t know anything about this.”
“Anything you can tell us might help.” Meg came and sat at the table with Lane and Wendy.
“Well, back in 1006 or 1007—it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly—Thorvold Eriksson was part of a Viking expedition to North America. There’s no actual agreement among historians, but it’s always been my personal belief he docked here in Provincetown.” Wendy’s eyes lit up, and her face became animated.
Lane thought Wendy would probably be a good teacher. “The Viking treasure those workmen found proved you were right.”
“Exactly,” Wendy said and favoured Lane with a smile. “For whatever reason, the treasure was buried here. Now, my guess is it was buried with a body. But the body wasn’t dug up with the treasure. I think they stopped digging when they found the treasure. I wanted them to go down further, but they wouldn’t. Goddamn Boston got involved and ordered everyone to stop immediately. Like we’re ignorant bumpkins who can’t tie our own shoes.”
“Why would someone be buried with treasure?” Meg asked.
“It was a kind of Viking insurance policy. They believed that sometimes, a person who was particularly mean or greedy might come back from the dead to claim their worldly possessions or exact revenge on the living. To stop that from happening, they buried them with their belongings. There’s a few Norse sagas written about it,” Wendy said.
“Hang on a second.” Teensy got up and came over to the table. “You’re trying to say this big zombie dude is a dead Viking who wants his treasure back?”
“No, of course not. That’s what I was saying before. I don’t know anything about what’s going on in Provincetown.” Wendy gripped her bag tighter.
“Why not?” Lane asked. “Why can’t it be a Viking zombie?”
“Draugr,” Wendy corrected her. “Viking zombies are called draugr.”
“You must have been dropped hard on your head when you were a baby,” Teensy said to Lane. “You think some Viking zombie is roaming around Ptown looking for his treasure?”
“Well, what do you think it is?” Lane stood up. She was a head shorter than Teensy, but she wanted to be standing when Teensy decided to knock ten bells out of her.
“Government shit. Probably the army testing some biological agent. It got loose, and now everyone’s turning into zombies,” Teensy said.
“That doesn’t sound any less insane than my theory,” Lane said.
“My theory has plausibility.” Teensy poked Lane in the chest. “Yours is just stupid.”
“Don’t poke me, Teensy.” Lane felt her face heat. She’d had just about enough of Teensy Day.
“Or what?” Teensy asked and took a step closer.
“Lane. Teensy.” Meg pushed herself in between them. “Would you both just cut it out? We’re in trouble here, and the last thing we need is you two going at it. It doesn’t really matter where the zombies came from. What matters is they’re here and they want to eat us. We need to try to stay alive. Not fight amongst ourselves.”
“It matters if it’s one of these draggers,” Lane said.
“Draugr,” Wendy corrected her, shifting the accent on the word.
“Whatever. The point is, if it’s a draugr, then we find the treasure and give it back. The draugr goes back to his grave. All’s well that ends well.”
“Not quite that simple,” Wendy said. “According to my research, the Viking that may have been buried here would be Ivar Sigmarsson. I can’t find any mention of him after Eriksson’s boat arrives in Provincetown. If it is him, we’d all better hope Teensy’s right about government experiments.”
“Why?” Meg asked.
Wendy took a deep breath. “He was a nasty son of a bitch. He once burned a village in what’s now England to the ground and slaughtered its inhabitants because his favourite dog ate some rotten meat there and died. He wasn’t a forgiving man.”
“Great,” Lane said. “So he isn’t keen on the English. Who is?”
“I’m serious. If what’s going on is to do with Ivar Sigmarsson, we’re in a lot of trouble. He won’t go away just because he got his treasure back. He’ll want revenge. All draugr do. They hate the living,” Wendy said.
“I thought you said it wasn’t to do with these draugr,” Meg said.
“It isn’t. But if it is…Oh, how would I know?” Wendy stood up suddenly and slid out of the booth. “How can anyone possibly know? This just isn’t normal. It isn’t right.” She looked around. Her face was red and sweating.
“Wendy?” Meg reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Wendy, it’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t. Not at all.” Wendy pulled away from Meg. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“You want me to come with you?” Teensy asked.
“No, I need some time to myself. Just leave me alone. All of you, just leave me alone.”
Wendy hurried out.
* * *
“Well, what do you think?” Meg asked.
She was sitting at the table with Lane beside her and Teensy opposite with Lois asleep on her lap.
She watched Lane sigh and rub her face. Meg had the overwhelming urge to reach out and run her hand over Lane’s broad back. Her hand twitched with the want.
“I still think it’s the government,” Teensy said.
“But zombies?” Meg asked.
“I wouldn’t put anything past those assholes,” Teensy replied and ran a hand over Lois’s head. “Main thing is to get this little one out of here. It’s been three hours now, and no one’s come to rescue us. Those zombies will be back. I don’t want to be here when they do. I think it’s time to go to the harbour.”
“Lane? What do you think? You’ve been very quiet.” Meg bumped Lane gently with her shoulder.
“I agree. It’s been too quiet. I still think Wendy knows more than she’s letting on. There has to be some way to stop this thing,” Lane said.
“What do you mean?” Teensy asked.
“Well, if these zombies are in Provincetown, there’s nothing to say they won’t get out and spread across the US. You saw how quick it happens. And presumably this chief zombie—Ivar Sigmarsson—is making new zombies out of living people. We need to do something.”
Meg looked at Lane. At her earnest face. This was not the Lane she remembered. The Lane she knew only cared about partying and having a good time. Or maybe Meg had misjudged her completely. Was it possible she’d been so hung up on the fact Lane was rich—and she wasn’t—that she’d blinded herself to who Lane really was? Did she have a huge chip on her shoulder like Lane said?
“We are doing something. Getting the fuck out of here and telling the authorities in Boston. Let them call the army in. The navy. They’ll blow these assholes to kingdom come,” Teensy said.
“I thought you were convinced it was the government?” Meg said.
“I don’t know what the hell it is, and neither do you. All I know is I want out of Provincetown, and I say we let the big boys handle it.” Teensy stood up with Lois in her arms. “I’m going to get Wendy, and then we’re leaving. You coming?”
Meg looked at Lane. “We should go with them, Lane.”
When had she thrown her lot in with Lane? When had she started thinking of them as an us?
“Okay.” Lane nodded. “It makes sense.”